What had happened was…

In short, I started over.

If you’ve been with me from the beginning, I’m talking 2009 beginning, you’d know that I’ve changed quite a bit since then. I went from sharing chapters of short stories on my personal blog, to writing, creating, and publishing whole books.

Last year, I was turning thirty, and honestly, scared out of my mind. I didn’t know where the time went. One day, I was 22, and the next, I was 29. It’s crazy how quickly time passes. I vividly remember handing out my composition book full of scribbles in middle school, and having my best friends read my new story. I remember crafting horribly written love stories on a flash drive, and bawling when it was no longer readable on a computer.

When thirty rolled up on me, I was shocked. How was I, EYE, turning thirty??? I was hardly a grown up. I still call my momma when I’m overwhelmed. I was no way equipped for adulting. Not to mention, I was neither married, close to being engaged, or pregnant.

By thirty, I was supposed to have it all figured out. I was supposed to marry my boyfriend at the time, pop out a bunch of babies, and still make it to brunch on Saturday mornings with my best girlfriends.

Oh, but life. Life, you sneaky, bitch. Life happened.

So, instead of calling my mom and freaking out every few days, I put all my fears and anxieties into a story. I created three women, Zaahira, Riley, and Terry. Three best friends who were turning thirty, and lacked direction, just like me. I put all of my fear, my hurt, my shortcomings, and my pain into that first draft. There were times where I’d cry as I was writing. (I’m kind of tearing up now, but that’s just because I’m a huge crybaby. Seriously, ask anyone).

And then I hit a wall. I stopped writing. My relationship fizzled. I had no more fire in me. And then I turned thirty. I realized, I didn’t die. I was still here, doing this life thing, and I had a story that still needed to be told.

There were three women who needed to get their story out. I couldn’t bring myself to delete the previous 80,000-word novel I wrote. So, in short, I started over.

I looked at these characters from fresh eyes. I crafted a life. Hope. Love. Faith. I breathed life into this book.